


Can I Steal You?

by Rena



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Deputy Derek Hale, M/M, Outdoor Sex, Pickpocket Stiles Stilinski, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-18
Updated: 2013-10-18
Packaged: 2017-12-29 18:23:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1008570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rena/pseuds/Rena
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One day Derek will learn how to not be affected by a cheeky, barely legal, pick-pocketing brat. Today is not that day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Can I Steal You?

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Можно, я украду тебя?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3149201) by [Nymphalidae_Danainae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nymphalidae_Danainae/pseuds/Nymphalidae_Danainae)



> For [Chris](http://youneedmetosurvive.tumblr.com), [Nasti](http://lycantrophies.tumblr.com) and [Goda](http://alphavenger.tumblr.com). Special thanks to [Ava](http://lycanbros.tumblr.com), who coached me through writing porn.

****

It happened so quickly, so subtly that even Derek, who stood in line behind Laura, almost missed it. In fact, he thought he was being paranoid; being a cop, he saw crimes in the making everywhere.  Laura often teased him about his paranoia, about never being able to leave his job be. In this case, Derek was glad about it, because when Laura reached into her bag and found that her wallet was missing, he knew exactly who had taken it.

He was out of the coffee shop and sprinting down the street in less than a minute, and it didn’t take him long to pick out the tall, lanky kid amidst the other people.

“Hey, you!” He called, pushing past an elderly couple. “Stop right there.”

The kid turned his head, eyes widening in recognition, and then he took off down the street like a rocket. He was _fast._ But Derek was faster; he’d had a lot of training, and he went running every day. He only had to chase the kid for two blocks when the boy made the mistake of slipping into a narrower side street, nearly tripped over a toppled-over trash bin and lost the last bit of what he’d managed to preserve of the head-start he’d had.

Derek grabbed him by the jacket and unceremoniously hauled him backwards, turned him and pushed him back against the wall.

The boy went with the movement, not bothering to struggle, and gave Derek a very obvious once over. “Hello there,” he grinned. “Can I help you with something?”

“You stole this,” Derek said, reaching around the kid and fishing the purse from his back pocket, “at the coffee shop, as we were waiting in line.”

“Ohh, perceptive. Colour me impressed.”

Derek rolled his eyes. “What’s your name, kid?”

The teenager pursed his lips, contemplating. “Trade you? My name for yours?”

“No.”

“You’re no fun,” he pouted.

“You’re a thief.”

“And you’re playing hero.” He wiggled in Derek’s grasp a little, but lazily, as if he wasn’t feeling uncomfortable at all. “And you’re pretty fast on your feet, too. So, you caught me. What now? You gonna be a good Samaritan and give the girl back her belongings? Force me to apologise?”

“Actually, I’d like to put you in handcuffs.”

The kid grinned. “Ohhh, _kinky_.”

Derek looked at him coolly. “You’re lucky I’m off duty, or I would’ve already arrested you ten times over. But I can call Officer Denston if you don’t cooperate. I’m sure he’d be delighted to accompany you to the station and look into your personal data and arrest report.”

That seemed to work. At the very least, it made the boy tense up and lose some of his bravado. Of course; there was no way someone as skilled a pickpocket as this kid hadn’t done it before, but even the best thieves tended to get caught once and again. Getting into more trouble probably wasn’t high on the boy’s priority list.

“Fucking Denston,” the kid muttered, and sighed in defeat. Derek grinned. Denston had always had it out for teenage miscreants. Most adolescent delinquents were sent his way, and he tended to rip them a new one. No wonder the boy knew this particular officer. “All right. Fine. What do you want me to do?”

“Answer my question,” Derek said.

The boy blinked. “Wha – oh. Stiles.”

What the hell kind of name was that supposed to be? “I’m not talking about street and gang names, kid.”

The teenager rolled his eyes. “It’s not, jerkface. It’s my name.”

Derek raised his eyebrows. “Right. So when I look up your ID –“

“You’ll find a monstrosity of a name that even I can’t pronounce. Everyone calls me Stiles, including my dad.”

“Okay, then, _Stiles_.“

“I get italics. _Nice_.” The grin was back in full force. Maybe Derek shouldn’t let him off that easy. “I’m not gonna lie, that’s sort of hot. It would be a lot hotter if you spoke into my ear whilst pressing me against a wall.”

Derek froze. “You’re not even legal,” he said, and immediately wanted to slap himself. What kind of answer was that? It was just too easy, though, to imagine the scenario. He’d only have to turn a little and he could push Stiles against the wall, face first, press up against him from behind. Stiles would be vocal, that was for sure, and he’d be so responsive under Derek’s hands, lithe body trembling with desire, and he could almost hear the string of obscenities that would leave Stiles’ mouth as Derek fucked him against the wall. And that – God, what was he thinking? “And you stole my sister’s purse. You’ve pissed me off enough for one day even without starting shit like propositioning a police officer who’s easily ten years older than you.”

Stiles blinked in surprise. Apparently he hadn’t noticed the long pause that followed his first sentence, or if he had, he wasn’t commenting on it. “The girl in the coffee shop was your sister?”

“Yes. And now, as you so creatively suggested earlier, you’re going to come with me, give her her purse back and apologise profusely,” Derek announced, dragging Stiles along with a steady grip on his arm.   

“It’s really not my lucky day. If I’d had any sense, I would’ve stolen from you,” Stiles sighed.

“You wouldn’t have gotten away with that either,” Derek told him.

“Probably not, but I wouldn’t have missed the once in a lifetime chance of sliding my hands into your back pocket and getting a feel of that fine piece of ass.”

Derek nearly tripped over his own feet. “Seriously?” he asked irritably.

“Come on, man, you can’t blame me for fantasising.” He couldn’t. Not when he was doing the same about – Jesus, about a minor. And judging from Stiles’ grin, he _had noticed_ Derek’s struggles. “I feel like I should tell you that I’m turning eighteen in two weeks,” Stiles added nonchalantly. “This is super vital information. You can even check my ID.”

No. Nope. Not going there. Nope. “Congratulations, you got lucky. If I’d caught you a month from now, if I _do_ catch you a month from now, I won’t let you off easy.”

“Oh, I’m counting on it,” Stiles said, leering. “Now, officer, let me suggest how this goes from here. I go and grovel at your sister’s feet, you finally give me a name that I can moan when I’m thinking of that hot and hard body pressed against mine, and in two weeks, you come and take me out for coffee with a side of angry sex. Deal?”

**∞**

“You need to stop doing this,” Derek said, gritting his teeth.

“I don’t know,” Stiles drawled. “I’m feeling pretty good, so why should I?”

“You’re pressed up against a wall,” Derek said incredulously.

Stiles’ grin was quick and blindingly beautiful. “Exactly. Pressed up against a wall by a hot cop in a uniform. There’s only one way this could be better for me, and that would involve us getting naked.”

“Stop,” Derek told him and tried to keep his voice from cracking.

Within the span of two weeks, his life had turned into hell _._ He didn’t know what he’d done in his past life to deserve it, but it was surely something as horrible as manslaughter. No one, he thought, deserved this kind of torture.

Stiles had been _everywhere._ In the coffee shop where Derek got his daily caffeine fix before going into work, leaning casually against a wall with a knowing smirk on his face. Lounging in a booth in the diner in which he and Laura got dinner. Cornering him in the bathroom, groping his ass and then disappearing before Derek could recover from the shock. Calling the station when Derek was on night shift and whispering dirty things into his ear that a boy as young as Stiles shouldn’t be able to imagine in such detail.

Derek still wasn’t entirely sure how he knew his schedule – the only solutions that came to his mind included extensive stalking and other seriously illegal methods that he wouldn’t even put past Stiles – but it was disconcerting and incredibly bad for his mental health. It didn’t help that Laura, who’d initially been pissed after being pick-pocketed by a punkass snotty brat, had taken a sudden and inexplicable liking to the kid the second he made an inappropriate comment about Derek right in fucking front of her, completely relaxed, like he hadn’t just hit on an older cop who’d caught him after stealing from his older sister. She’d thought it was hilarious. Of course she had.

Derek didn’t find it very hilarious. Instead, he was panicking because he kept being propositioned by an underage delinquent in increasingly graphic ways and, God help him, Derek _wanted_ him. Stiles had featured in every single one of his wet dreams since the day they met and he hadn’t been able to help himself when it came to his jerk-off sessions either. No matter how much he tried to avoid it, the image of Stiles always managed to barrel its way into his mind and stay there, like a persistent bug.

Derek hadn’t jerked off that much since he was a teenager. He’d never come as hard as he had imagining Stiles’ hands and mouth on him either.

 _Get it together, Hale_ , he told himself sternly, but with Stiles pressed up against his front it was hard to think straight.

“Do you know what day it is?” Stiles asked sweetly as Derek wrenched his wallet from Stiles’ back pocket and stuffed it back into his own where it belonged.

Derek swallowed. He knew, indeed. He’d checked Stiles’ ID. Turned out the kid hadn’t lied about his birthday.  Not that he was going to admit that he had memorised the birthday of someone he didn’t even really know. “Enlighten me.”

“I’m eighteen today,” Stiles told him triumphantly, turning his head to wink at Derek. “You know what that means?”

“I can actually arrest you for sexual harassment?”

“You could,” Stiles admitted and then leant back, pressing his ass against Derek’s crotch, rolling his hips in a way that should be fucking illegal. Derek let go of him abruptly, took a step back and Stiles grabbed his wrists and spun them around, pressing Derek up against the wall. “But you’re not going to, are you?” he asked and then dropped to his knees, looking up at him innocently from under unbelievably long eyelashes.

“Fuck,” Derek cursed and let his head fall back against the wall. He was already breathing heavily and Stiles hadn’t even touched him. This was all sorts of wrong; he shouldn’t want this, he shouldn’t let Stiles do this to him in a dirty back alley, between dumpsters and cat piss. He knew he should get away – he could, too. Stiles wasn’t holding him in place, wasn’t forcing him to stay. Not that he could’ve if he’d wanted to. He might’ve been stronger than Derek had anticipated – and fuck wasn’t it a turn on that he could now imagine a lithe, muscled body underneath those layers and layers of clothes – but not strong enough to take on Derek.

“Patience, grasshopper.” Stiles grinned, mouthing along the line of his already hardening cock through his trousers. “All in good time. You can fuck me later. First, I wanna taste you. I’ve been thinking about your dick in my mouth for _weeks_.”

Derek tried and failed to bite back the moan that escaped him. “Stiles,” he rasped desperately, “I’m on shift.”

“That you are, and believe me, you look even hotter in a uniform,” Stiles told him, unzipping his pants and glancing up at him, eyebrows raised in a clear challenge. “You gonna arrest me – us – for public indecency? I gotta say, I wouldn’t mind you breaking out the handcuffs. It’d be hot.”

Derek couldn’t help but imagine what Stiles would look like splayed out beneath him, handcuffed to the bed, body arching into Derek’s touch. He’d be enjoying it for sure, mewling and begging for more, urging Derek to fuck him harder. The sight he’d make. Derek would be lying if he claimed he hadn’t thought about it before, every time Stiles came _this_ _close_ to committing another misdemeanour. He’d never had a handcuff kink before, but then he was beginning to think that Stiles would prompt him to discover a lot of new sexual preferences of varying degrees of kinkiness.

And Stiles and handcuffs? Yeah, it’d be hot.

“Maybe some other time,” Derek conceded.

“Oh?” Stiles grinned wider. “So there’s gonna be another time?”

“Depends,” Derek said roughly, glaring down at him. “Are you gonna do something anytime soon, or are you just stalling time until we get caught?”

“Eh...” Stiles shrugged and yanked Derek’s pants down to his mid thighs, leaning forward to nuzzle his erection through his boxer briefs. “Not sure voyeurism is a thing for me. At least, it’s further down my list of things we should try than handcuffs.”

“You have a –“ Derek’s breath hitched as Stiles ran his tongue over the outline of his cock , the soft, wetted material creating a torturous sort of friction with the drag of tongue that just wasn’t enough, his lower lip catching the cloth a little under the head and lingering there for a bit before dragging his mouth further up in a way that was just this side of obscene. Derek bit his lips and wrestled down the urge to buck his hips forward, to tug down his underwear and just push into Stiles’ tantalisingly perfect mouth. “You have a list?”

As if he didn’t have one himself.

Stiles hummed in confirmation, hooked his fingers under the waistband of Derek’s underwear and pushed it down. “Damn,” he murmured, licking his lips and staring at the curve of Derek’s dick against his stomach with hungry eyes like a starving man who can’t quite believe someone set down a delicious meal in front of him.

No matter how much it secretly pleased Derek and amped up his self-esteem, they didn’t have time for this. Not now. Not when he was supposed to be working. He reached down to cup Stiles’ face, thumb nudging against the corner of his mouth, and Stiles went with the thought immediately, lips falling open under the soft pressure. Derek let Stiles suck his thumb into his mouth for a moment, moaning at the feeling of his tongue swirling around the knuckle and just the tiniest graze of teeth against the skin. He had no doubts that Stiles’ mouth on his dick would _wreck_ him.

Derek tightened his fingers around his neck to tug him forwards a little and Stiles complied, edging closer and abandoning the ministrations of his finger in favour of  licking a wet, long stripe from the base of Derek’s length to the tip before wrapping his lips around the head and taking Derek into the wet heat of his mouth.  The curl of tongue under the foreskin was just enough to punch the breath out of his lungs, and he had to clench his hands into fists to keep himself from gripping Stiles’ hair and just shoving his head further onto his cock.

As if he could read his thoughts, Stiles pulled back and grinned up at him.  “You can pull my hair,” he said. “I like it rough.”

Derek was officially done for. Every last bit of self-control flew out of the proverbial window. He just buried his fingers deep in Stiles’ hair and yanked him forward and Stiles laughed at his impatience before swallowing him down again, sinking down on him until his cock hit the back of his throat. He clearly had experience in the field of deep-throating, because no virgin would ever be able to do this without showing any signs of a gag reflex. Derek allowed himself a brief second of irrational, burning jealousy that made him want to punch whoever had taught Stiles in the face before succumbing to the overwhelming pleasure of Stiles’ ministrations. It was simply impossible to concentrate on anything than Stiles’ best attempt at sucking his brains out through his dick, bobbing his head up and down with a fervour that made Derek’s head swirl.

Derek was vaguely aware that he was making all kinds of embarrassing noises, which was another first for him; he wasn’t usually all that vocal during sex, but he couldn’t hold back the choked off curses Stiles forced out of him. The way Stiles moaned around his dick like it was the best thing he ever tasted made him feel better about that. He could worry about embarrassing himself when he was not busy getting the best blowjob of his life by a fucking _teenager_.

“God, Stiles, look at you,” he said darkly. He sounded wrecked, even in his own ears, and he could tell the effect it had on Stiles in the way his fingers dug into Derek’s ass cheeks to pull him forwards. “You’re so hungry for it.”

“What did you expect? I’ve been thinking about your dick for weeks, about how it’d feel when you’d finally hold me down and fuck me hard and -” Stiles groaned loudly and one of his hands left Derek’s body in favour of pressing his palms against his groin.

Derek didn’t know whether he was trying to hold back his orgasm to keep himself from coming into his underwear like the kid he was - and he only spent a moment thinking about how hot it was that his voice alone could affect Stiles this much - or whether he was searching friction to get himself off. But it was in this moment that he decided that, regardless of what a turn on it was that Stiles was about to jack off while on his knees, sucking Derek off, that this might actually be enough to push him over the edge, that it wouldn’t do. He didn’t want to come down Stiles’ throat without even getting to touch Stiles, without getting to mark him up like he longed to do.

He pushed at Stiles’ shoulders until the teenager got the hint, leaning back and releasing him with an obnoxious popping sound. He actually looked put out that Derek was depriving him of his genitals.

“What?” he asked irritably, voice hoarse. “I don’t mind if you come in my mouth, I know you’re clean.”

Derek didn’t even want to know how Stiles got a copy of his most recent test results. That was something he could postpone asking about after there had been mutual orgasms. “I don’t want to come in your mouth,” he said, grabbing Stiles and hauling him to his feet.

He’d known, of course he had known, that Stiles had been thinking about Derek fucking him. Stiles had made that very clear. Several times. In vivid detail. But it was only now that the reality of that possibility overcame him, and when it had taken root, it was impossible to not think about it. He took a couple of steps forward, forcing Stiles to move backwards, his hands moving down to undo Stiles’ belt and opening his jeans as he went.

Stiles sent him a somewhat confused look until his legs hit the bumper of Derek’s patrol car, and his bewilderment turned into obvious glee. Derek wasn’t surprised that he was elated about where this was heading.  Stiles’ fantasies had involved a number of different scenarios in which he ended up bent over Derek’s desk at the station, or the back of the couch, or any object in the vicinity, really. Derek figured that part of those fantasies being related to him on multiple occasions was that Stiles had picked up on the fact that Derek tended to not slam the receiver down immediately once he started describing what he wanted to do to Derek whenever his imaginations involved him being bent over something. Of course he’d notice Derek’s hesitation to end the call because he was secretly enjoying these fantasies as well. He was a smart kid. He’d make a good detective, one day, if he ever decided to drop his illegal activities.

He made quick work of shoving Stiles’ jeans and underwear down to his knees before turning him around and pinning him face first over the hood of the car. Stiles let out a grunt that sounded like it was mostly for show considering Derek was careful to not be too rough with him and turned his head to look back at Derek.

“You’re kinkier than I thought, then.” He grinned.

Derek raised his eyebrows. It was easier to think now that he wasn’t approximately five seconds away from coming, easier to remember that he usually had more control and stamina than this. Easier to come up with a lot of creative ways to have Stiles screaming as he fucked him deep and thorough like it was appropriate for a petty criminal like he was. “Is that a bad thing?”

“Absolutely not,” Stiles said, licking his lips. “No complaints _at all_ from this party.”

“Good.” Derek slid his right hand down Stiles’ spine, the other still firmly placed between his shoulder blades to keep him down - and then he froze when he felt the wetness between Stiles’ cheeks, the looseness of his hole. “Seriously?” he asked, incredulity creeping into his voice.

Stiles huffed out a laugh. “If you think I didn’t spend every waking moment I could spare with three fingers up my ass and jerking off to thoughts of you then you’re in for a big revelation, buddy.”

“Jesus.” He swallowed. “You’ve been -”

“Keeping myself prepared and open for you since the day I nicked your sister’s wallet? Yeah. I knew you’d cave eventually and I really didn’t want to waste a whole lot of time with preparation when we could just cut to the real deal. We can take our sweet time the next time we do this, but right now, I just want you to fuck me.”

“Fuck,” Derek said, leaning his forehead against Stiles’ back and taking a moment to let that bit of information sink in.

“Kind of the point of all that, yeah. So if you could put your dick in me before the next dispatch call comes in, that’d be really great.”

“Put your dick in me,” Derek echoed mockingly, pulling back a little to search for the condom and lube he’d taken to carry around at all times. “And to think that I forgot for a moment that I was having sex with a teenager. Also, please don’t mention my colleagues or my sister when we’re having sex, that’s just...no.”

“Noted.”

“Are you sure I -” he began hesitantly as he rolled the condom on and slicked himself up.

“If you hesitate for one more second I swear to God I’ll just do it myself,” Stiles threatened.

Derek had no doubt he’d try, but Stiles fucking himself on Derek’s cock was another fantasy that would have to wait till the next time. He scoffed, and, just to be an asshole, pushed two fingers inside Stiles without preamble. They glided in and out of his body easily; Stiles hadn’t lied about keeping himself prepared.

“Fuck you,” Stiles ground out, annoyed, but the curse turned into a high-pitched keen when Derek crooked his fingers to brush against his prostate. “Dammit, Derek, stop teasing me!”

Now that he’d actually made sure he wouldn’t hurt Stiles with the added bonus of showing Stiles who was in charge he didn’t mind complying. Derek nudged Stiles’ legs a little further apart for better access and pushed in with one long, slow motion. Stiles mewled when he bottomed out, already trying to push back and force Derek to set a pace. Derek would’ve loved to torture him with slow, shallow thrusts that prolonged the sex just to see what other noises he could wrestle out of Stiles as he brought him slowly closer and closer to the brink of orgasm, but Stiles had been right about one thing: they didn’t have much time.

“Move, asshat,” Stiles grunted out, his speech slightly muffled by the cold metal his face was pressed up against. He was trying his damnest to buck his hips backwards against Derek’s crotch, despite the hold Derek had of him not giving him a lot of leeway. Derek wished he could make him beg for it for hours; bar none, the sight of Stiles spread out over the hood of his car in a dirty back alley was both the dirtiest and hottest thing he’d ever seen.

Derek leant down to push up Stiles’ t-shirt and lick up his spine before biting gently at the nape of his neck, accentuating every nibble with a sharp thrust of his hips. Stiles made a wounded, helpless noise deep in his throat, his fingers scrambling for purchase, clawing vainly at the metal of the vehicle.

It was difficult not to get completely lost in the overwhelming sensations, the perfect, tight heat of Stiles, the thrill of the knowledge that someone could walk past the alley and spot them every moment. He bit his lip to prevent a loud moan from breaking past his lips when Stiles pushed himself up to his elbows, changing the angle and allowing Derek to drive in impossibly deep.

“Fuck,” Stiles panted. “ _Fuck_. Yes, right there, oh God, yes, _Derek_.”

It was only when Stiles started a constant string of mostly incoherent but laudatory babble that Derek realised how uncharacteristically quiet he had been before, and it was only when he saw Stiles clench his hands into fists and bite down to muffle his scream that he understood how he’d kept the noise down.

He didn’t _want_ him to keep the noise down, Derek thought with a pang of annoyance. He wanted to hear every sound Stiles made, every moan, every scream. He didn’t want him to hold back.

“Next time,” he promised darkly, grabbing a fistful of Stiles’ hair and tugging it until Stiles turned his head and glanced over his shoulder at Derek, pupils blown so wide he could hardly make out any amber anymore, “I want to hear you. I’m going to hold you down just like this and I’m going to make you scream until you can’t remember your own name. I don’t care who hears. I don’t care if all my neighbours know I’m fucking you. I want them to hear. I want them to know you’re mine.”

“Yes,” Stiles hissed. “Yours, Derek, come _on_ , so close, _please_ , just -”

“After I’m done with you -” he swore, wrapping his arm around Stiles chest and pulling him back against him, “you’re never gonna want anyone else again. You think you’ve been lusting after me. I’m gonna wreck you for everyone else.”

Stiles let out a broken sob when Derek wrapped his other hand around Stiles’ cock, jacking him off with fast, tight strokes. It didn’t take more than a dozen strokes before Stiles was falling apart in his arms, shaking and quivering with the aftershocks of his orgasm, biting his lips so hard he drew blood to keep himself from screaming Derek’s name. He was even more startlingly beautiful like this than usually, panting and sweating and completely undone.

It didn’t take Derek long to follow at all, and he knew that even if he did wreck Stiles, Stiles would always manage to ruin him in return.

“Jesus,” Stiles said, wobbling slightly on his feet when Derek pulled out, rolled the condom off and tossed it carelessly into the dark of the alley. “Best birthday present ever.”

“Can you walk?” Derek asked as he zipped up his pants.

Stiles snorted. “You didn’t fuck the ability to talk out of me, you sure as hell didn’t impair my muscle control. I’ll be fine.” He cocked his head, straightening up and pulling his own jeans back up. “You might wanna clean up the mess I made of your car, though.”

“I should make you clean that up,” Derek grumbled. He’d need a whole box of tissues to mop up the streaks of come that were splattered over the hood.

Stiles just laughed, leaning heavily back against the metal frame, and Derek rolled his eyes, ducked into the car and fished some tissues out of the glove compartment. “Make yourself useful,” he said, chucking a few at Stiles.

They wiped the hood down the best they could in as little time as possible; in the dark of the alley, it looked like an okay job, but Derek still prayed none of his colleagues would take a closer look until he got the chance to wash it properly.

“So….” Stiles trailed off.

Derek raised his eyebrows and waited.

“You plan on following up on that promise?”

“My shift ends in two hours,” Derek said.

“I know.” Stiles grinned. “At your place?”

“Unless you want me to fuck you in your childhood home where your parents can hear.”

Stiles shuddered. “Ugh, no. I’ll wait at your apartment.”

The intercom of Derek’s car frizzled and crackled, a voice that Derek thought sounded vaguely like Deputy Graham asking for his location, startling Derek back into reality.

“Work awaits,” Stiles said. He pressed a quick kiss to Derek’s lips, gave him a light slap on the ass and sashayed away. “See you in two hours!”

“I can’t - wait, how do you even know where I live?” he yelled after him.

The only answer he got was Stiles’ laughter.

 

 


End file.
